Chapter 10
“If we cut back to finger foods.” Haven untangled her locs with one hand and punched numbers into a calculator with the other. “And make them ourselves, we could save the eight hundred on catering.”
I chewed on my pen cap, staring at the whiteboard we’d been moving stuff around on for hours.
Event logistics were more of a hassle than anticipated since I didn’t have the resources of the three other orgs.
Women in Business excelled at hosting small gatherings, but their roster of connections was almost as thin as ours.
“That’s a lot of hand-rolled pigs in a blanket,” I said.
She shrugged. “Beats an over-charged credit card.”
“You’re right.” I sighed and erased the caterer from the board. “Maybe we can make it into a bonding event for the board and members.”
“We’ll have much more control over the menu that way,” Haven said around a yawn as she updated our finance tracking sheet.
“You want to call it for the night?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No way. I’m having the time of my life.
We haven’t even dived into the exorbitant amount of money our potential locations want as a down payment.
Not to mention their insurance fees. Did you know most of these places give you one week after booking to cancel, and then, you’re locked in?
No matter how far away the event is. Did I mention I’m having the time of my life? ”
Groaning, I fell onto the couch, face-first. “I just wanted to do a cute little ball. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
Haven patted my head. “It’s not too much; it’s just… a lot.”
“What’s the difference?”
“One’s exhausting; the other’s obtainable with a bit of elbow grease.”
My phone alarm went off. I sighed, pulling it out of my back pocket. “Of course, this is tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” Haven pushed herself off the floor and went to the kitchen, on the hunt for leftovers.
“David’s having a party,” I said.
She laughed. “A party? That should be interesting. Think he’ll dance?”
“I hadn’t even considered that as an option, but now that you’ve mentioned it, I don’t think I can afford to miss this.”
“You’re really considering going?” She twirled a pair of unopened chopsticks between her fingers as she waited for her noodles to reheat.
I pushed myself into a sitting position. “I… yeah.”
“Why? David’s the reason your blood pressure was so high last year.”
“My blood pressure has always been high,” I said. “It’s genetic.”
“Well, hanging around him can’t be helping.”
“When he invited me, I think… Haven, I think he was trying to be nice.”
“Nice? David was trying to be nice?”
“He even said thank you for the water fiasco last year,” I said. “And get this, he apologized for not pretending to be a friend sometimes, like I do.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Did he have any weird marks on him?”
I frowned. “What?”
“Like hints of being injected.” She gestured to the back of her neck. “You know, for the probing.”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh or engage with anything to do with aliens. Once Haven and I got on this train, it was difficult to jump off.
“Speaking of probing,” Haven said, realizing her joke would not be enough to pull me in. “There’s a new season of Out There available. Want me to heat your chicken and rice? I could get the weighted blankets, too. Maybe some lavender tea after we finish eating, and we can start theorizing?”
“Tempting, but I’m going to this party.” I pushed off the couch and went to the laundry room to dig through the dryer. “And you’re coming too.”
She laughed. “I only half-support your venture deeper into the world of David. But I will not partake in that journey. My intuition screams run the other way.”
“We don’t go to parties.” I retrieved my fleece-lined tights. “We’ve never gone to parties. Don’t you want to tell your children about the wild stuff you got up to in college?”
“No, because A: I won’t be having any.”
“Right.” I had forgotten about her decision to remain child-free.
“And B: I don’t need to go to some unknown location with drunk strangers to feel like my college experience was worthwhile. I didn’t think you needed to either.”
“I don’t. I’m mostly going to be nosy.” I leaned against the laundry room’s door frame, twirling the tights in a circle. “David’s throwing the party for his friend.”
She raised a brow. “You could have led with that. Is this someone from where you guys grew up?”
I shook my head. “No one from where we grew up wanted to leave.”
“Aw, well, it’s baby’s first friend then?”
“Seems like it. So, what do you say? It’s off campus.
In that fancy neighborhood with the locked gates and grass that’s always two and a half inches tall.
We could dip in, see how many times a football player can use the word ‘bro’ and dip out to get fries and pick apart theories on I Believe forums.”
Haven chewed her noodles slowly, considering. “Will you throw in a trip with me to the RV lot?”
After college, Haven was determined to move into an RV and travel across the US for a couple of years. “I will gawk over prices and try to haggle for you until the lot closes.”
She smiled. “Did you see my good skirt in the dryer?”
A code was required to open the gate. A code David failed to share after multiple texts. I eventually called him. It took two times before he finally picked up. And once he did, I was greeted with a lackluster, “Yeah?”
I closed my eyes to avoid rolling them because Haven was in the driver’s seat, and she would turn her car around the second she sniffed unnecessary conflict.
“The gate code, David,” I said flatly.
“Shit.” He muted.
We waited for about a minute. Haven drummed on the steering wheel, leaning forward to read the gaudy residential name.
“Baymount Springs,” she said with a wrinkled nose.
“Do you think people who live in places like these actually like these big houses with no personality and golf-cart-plagued crosswalks? Or have they just convinced themselves it’s better because it’s behind a gate, which, mind you, is a false sense of security because even I could climb over that? ”
I shrugged, swallowing down my response of actually liking neighborhoods like these.
It was like the one I grew up in. The large bay windows on most of the houses reminded me of winters spent tracing snowflakes on glass.
I’d spent plenty of summers riding around the neighborhood in my parents’ golf cart.
They’d trusted me enough to take the thing out as a preteen.
My friends and I would drive it to the far corners of the golf course to count the number of misplaced balls and see if we could sneak in a few holes without getting caught.
Haven knew I came from money. Sure, it wasn’t the upper echelon, rubbing elbows with world leaders’ kind of money, but it was still the fine china, trust fund, multiple vacations, we’ll load up your debit card if you want, you can get both pairs of shoes kind of money.
Haven didn’t know I got nostalgic about it. She didn't understand that manicured lawns and animal-shaped bushes made me feel at home. And I never attempted to explain, too embarrassed and guilt-ridden about enjoying what most would consider soulless or too extravagant.
“2543,” David said as soon as he came back on the line.
Haven punched in the number, and the gate creaked open.
“Good?” he asked.
“Yeah, all good. Thank—”
He hung up. Haven gave me a look, and I shook my head. “Don’t say it.”
“I’m not going to say it,” she promised and, in a lower voice, added, “Yet.”
“We’re here to gather crucial dancing-David evidence, stuff our bags with over-priced snacks, and maybe make a few contacts for the ball. Everything else is irrelevant.”
“Alright, alright.” Haven parked right alongside the sidewalk. There were already a handful of cars on the circular driveway. When we got out, we saw a brown-skinned woman walking her dog and talking on the phone. She smiled at us and gave us a small wave before carrying on.
“Evening,” an old, gray-haired man who was cruising by on a bike greeted with a serene smile.
“Evening,” Haven and I said in awkward unison.
My best friend ran around the car to meet me on the sidewalk and tucked her arm through mine. “Aren’t they supposed to be side-eyeing my dump of a car? Asking if we’re lost? Or are we safe because they smell the new money on you? I’m sure your parents used to bathe you in it.”
“I don’t think that’s it, considering the money baths only happen on my birthday,” I said. “The smell fades after a few months.”
Haven watched our six as I led us up the walk to a surprisingly quiet house. I checked the number on the door twice to be sure we were at the right place. When I knocked, there was a squeal, a crash, and a flutter at the curtain.
“Relax, relax.” A tall, broad-shouldered guy with one of the famous tattoo sleeves opened the door. “It’s not him. It’s…Yara?”
I smiled and wiggled out of Haven’s grip to hug him. “Hart.”
Hart Hwong lifted me off my feet and carried me past the threshold.
Last semester, we were the only two minorities in a course called Cultural History through the Lens of Film.
I backed him and his demand for more Korean films to be added to the watchlist. And he was my right-hand man whenever I pushed for more queer Black media to be included in our discussions on intersectionality.
“Where have you been?” Hart asked. I ignored the curious gazes of his friends. They slowly began going back to what they were doing: taping up a ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner, setting out food, and scattering confetti on the marble floor.
“Where I usually am.” I laughed when he gave me a last squeeze and set me down. “Library and slash or student center. What about you?”